Let's get this party started

Since the Observer hit town Friday with his personal Airbus A380 loaded with himself, 27 executive staff members, 14 sets of imported tails, eight boxes of Cuban cigars and 24 pairs of Italian dancing shoes, life had come at him at a pace that's frantic even for Mardi Gras.

Despite being the largest passenger aircraft in the skies -- and wouldn't it look nice rolling out of an assembly plant in Mobile -- the plane still groaned under the strain of carrying the Observer's 12 favorite single-malt whiskeys, his 2,000 thread-count sheets and his string of polo ponies.

You never know when someone in Fairhope might start a pickup game of polo.

Thus far, the most difficult aspect of the visit has been listening to the whining of the Observer's footmen, who took issue with the sub-freezing temperatures they had to contend with while the boss was inside at the galas.

Certainly it's not the Observer's fault that their jobs require them to stand motionless next to his Mercedes Benz S65 AMG during the entire time that he attends a social event. Whine, whine, whine: That's all he ever hears from them.

At the very first ball of the downtown Mobile season -- that of the storied Conde Cavaliers on Friday night -- people had so much fun dancing to the'80s tribute band The Molly Ringwalds that the local gendarmes had to clear the dance floor at 2-ish a.m. by forming a line and sweeping across the premises.

This is a trick normally saved for midnight on Fat Tuesday itself, when everyone has had so much Carnival that Ash Wednesday and its accompanying deprivation seem almost a relief.

The Cavaliers' queen looked quite fetching in a white dress with a stunning train framed with pink and white fur.

There was a lot of trading going on in the Civic Center between the Cavaliers and attractive young ladies who wished for beads.

Local customs vary, of course, but the Cavaliers are generally insistent on a kiss in exchange for beads, and most were not disappointed. Floral Headpiece, the Observer's personal secretary and a global citizen if there ever was one, had no problem with the game so long as the bead provider didn't try to push it into overtime.

On Saturday night, your faithful correspondent and his lovely consort dropped in on the 23rd annual Pharaohs ball at Mobile Government Plaza. It was there that Dark Hallway, the Observer's trusted bodyguard, showed once again why he makes his living with brawn.

The beautiful queen of the Pharaohs was promenading past, and her lovely train got the attention of Hallway.

"What's that symbol that looks like a rounded cross?" he asked.

"It's an Egyptian ankh, their symbol for eternal life," the Observer replied.

"I thought ankh was the main ingredient in pens," Hallway reasoned. "As in, 'My pen was out of ankh, so I had to use a pencil.'"

"Go wait by the car," the Observer said, his head starting to throb.

The queen's train was luxuriously long and the tableau mercifully short, meaning guests could begin reveling with maskers in fairly short order. Once again this year, the Pharaohs offered up an impressive audiovisual presentation of the evening's events, in case you missed it the first time or had your view blocked by way of being vertically challenged.

The first bridesmaid dress of the year was spotted at 8:55 p.m. by the Observer's consort, and this year's first Mellow Moon Pie Award, for service above and beyond the call of Mardi Gras, goes to a young woman sporting a dragon tattoo on her posterior deltoid.

She worked a full 10 minutes trying to free a particular set of beads that she fancied from a tangled collection around a masker's neck. Sadly, she was denied when he had to leave for the tableau.

For all of you who haven't yet been to the Our Bodies exhibit at the Exploreum, your posterior deltoid is too high up on your back to be considered a naughty place.

(Coming Thursday: The Observer is invited to the second annual Peg-Leg Pub Crawl on Dauphin Street. To e-mail the mysterious one: observer@press-register.com)